


Over the Rainbow

by ElvenSorceress



Category: Rent - Larson
Genre: Drug Use, F/F, F/M, M/M, Mild Language, References to Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-03-06
Updated: 2006-03-06
Packaged: 2017-11-25 20:37:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/642729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElvenSorceress/pseuds/ElvenSorceress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the road to Santa Fe, Roger reflects on his friendships and learns where he belongs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Over the Rainbow

  
  
Roger drove through the midst of the great Kansas prairies, without a guitar at his side.  
  
It was unusual seeing the sun, feeling the dry air and knowing it was November. He’d occasionally stop on his westward trek to stretch his legs, seeing nothing but the great gray prairie on every side. No skyscrapers, buildings nor even plants of any kind broke the vast sweep of flat land that extended beyond the horizon in every direction.  
  
No sign of life, no touch of color and every few hours, Roger would wonder how anyone could keep from becoming as dull and joyless as the surroundings.  
  
And every time he did, those deep brown eyes that twinkled and looked at him with such love flashed across his mind.  
  
He couldn’t bear to watch the light fade from her eyes. He couldn’t.  
  
So, he kept driving.  
  
If he didn’t think about Mimi then he wouldn’t think about Angel. And how Angel was gone. Dead from something that was also killing him. That drip of hurt that kept flowing through him whenever he remembered the events of the last week was one too many. He already had buckets full that held all the blood and tears shed from when April died.  
  
What was even worse than knowing the virus was killing him, was watching someone he loved wither from the same disease. It was hard enough with Angel, how would it be with Mimi?  
  
Don’t think all day, he had to remind himself. That was what Joanne told him she did.  
  
He remembered stopping by to see Maureen one day and found the lawyer frantically running about her apartment. She was hastily trying to straighten up everything, even though Roger couldn’t see any cushion out of place, any lampshade not perfectly parallel with the floor or any papers not neatly stacked on her office desk.  
  
“My parents are coming,” she explained, running back and forth between the kitchen and her bedroom. “Maureen won’t be around all day. I hope.”  
  
Roger stretched out on the couch. “You hope?”  
  
“Yes, I know, it’s terrible of me,” she admitted, checking whatever was in the oven for the fourth time since Roger had walked in the door. “I just can’t handle them butting heads today.” She fastened a gold earring as she went back to her bedroom.  
  
He smirked. “That bad, huh?”  
  
“Oh, believe me,” she called out. “It’s worse.” She reemerged in a rather fluffy, light pink dress and held out her hands. “What do you think?”  
  
Roger looked sideways at her. “I think you look like the Good Witch of the North. Either that or Pepto-Bismol.”  
  
“Oh, fuck you.”  
  
Roger laughed and Joanne checked the oven timer again. “You’re beautiful, Joanne,” he insisted. “That dress is just _really_ not you.”  
  
“I know. But my parents like it.”  
  
Quietly, he asked, “Don’t you ever get tired of that?”  
  
“All the time. I just have to not think about it.” She headed back into her room, returning with a pair of pants. “It’s the only thing that keeps me halfway sane.”  
  
He sighed and gave her a smile.  
  
“Here, Maureen left these for you,” she said, handing him the jeans. “She also said something about how Angel loved them and thought they were perfect for you.”  
  
Roger had grinned. “It figures they love them. Those two have the strangest taste in clothing.”  
  
She’d laughed and given him a hug before he left.  
  
Roger took one hand off the wheel and rubbed it on his thigh, letting the reflective mirrors scratch his hand. Of all the things from his ‘rock star’ days, Maureen had to love the sparkly jeans the most. She’d saved them after April died even though he tried to throw them out, along with everything else that reminded him of his former girlfriend. For once, he was grateful that she had.  
  
His eyes trailed over the endless miles ahead, watching the yellow paint blocks dividing the rode as they flew passed him. As he drove further and signs of life started reappearing, he watched several flocks of birds fly above him and immediately thought of Mark.  
  
He smiled when he thought of that day in the park. It was the first time Benny and Collins hadn’t been around since he’d moved in. The first time he’d spent time with just Mark.  
  
Since Roger had nothing better to do, he accompanied Mark on a filming excursion. After following a few interesting people around, they sat quietly together on a bench.  
  
“So, how’d you end up here?” Mark asked. “In the life of a starving artist.”  
  
“I love music. It’s all I ever wanted to do. What about you?”  
  
Mark laughed. “Well, that’s kind of a long story, but I left Brown and the business world because this is what I love.” He held up his camera.  
  
“You went to Brown?” Roger gawked.  
  
“Yeah, for a while. But I just didn’t fit in there.”  
  
“Why not?”  
  
Mark looked away, casually admitting, “I’m not talented or smart enough. Not driven enough.”  
  
Roger watched him closely. “That’s bullshit.”  
  
“You don’t even know me. How would you know if that was true or not?”  
  
Roger was quiet, but insisted, “I just know.”  
  
Mark shrugged then flinched when a bird flew close by them.  
  
“What?” Roger looked at him strangely.  
  
“Nothing. Birds just freak me out.”  
  
Roger received a delightful glare from Mark when he burst out laughing.  
  
“Hey! Collins says you’re afraid of sharks,” he pouted.  
  
Still chuckling, Roger stood and pulled Mark to his feet. “At least that is a legitimate way to die! Mark, they are just birds.”  
  
Mark scowled at him and Roger couldn’t help but overflow with affection. He draped an arm over the filmmaker as they walked home and promised, “Don’t worry; I’ll protect you from all the big, scary birds.”  
  
Mark had continued to glare, but hadn’t pulled away.  
  
Slowly, the happiness faded as Roger kept driving. He hated how he’d left things with Mark. And Mimi. And everyone.  
  
The only one who might have understood was Collins, but Roger wouldn’t put money on it. Collins had left New York before, though for different reasons, and he was always relatively logical about things.  
  
Roger had always loved sitting on the roof or the fire escape with him, listening to Collins talk about his adventures and his view on the world, usually while both of them were trashed.  
  
He’d laughed one night and asked his friend “Is there anything you don’t know?”  
  
“Yeah,” Collins admitted and pointed to the redhead asleep on the window seat. “I’ve never been in love.”  
  
“Really?” Roger started, unbelieving.  
  
“I know it sounds weird, but if I could have just one thing the rest of my life, I’d want it to be love, like the way she loves you.”  
  
Roger tried to breathe deeply, knowing he couldn’t cry while driving. At least Collins had gotten his wish, however short the time had been.  
  
He could also remember listening to Benny before he married Muffy, wishing he had the balls to leave and dreaming of a life better than this.  
  
Roger never quite understood. Sure, they didn’t always have food or heat; there was always someone who’d steal the coat off your back if you weren’t careful. This life was far from one of glitz and glamour and satin robes, but that really wasn’t the point.  
  
There was creativity and passion and freedom that flowed through their world. And above all, there was love. For music and art and expression, and of course, each other. It became pretty obvious to Roger that Benny’s life now was lacking even to his sell-out of a friend. Why else would he try and take Mimi?  
  
Immediately, Roger chastised himself for again thinking of her. For the rest of his journey, he refrained from thinking of any of his friends all together, driving on into the night.  
  
The sun was rising when he saw a glow in the sky before him. It grew brighter and brighter and he knew without even reading the road signs, that it was Santa Fe. He spent the next few weeks in the heart of the city, basking in the wonder of finally living this dream.  
  
The only problem was that it was Collins’ dream. And it was his dream for all of them to be together. Their restaurant, their corner of Bohemia far from any disease or sorrow or harsh reality.  
  
Every night, Roger couldn’t help but think of his friends back home.  
  
It started out being mostly Mimi. She was everywhere; watching him across the street, turning the corner before he got there, in the reflections he saw in the windows. Sometimes, he’d swear she was lying beside him, waking him with kisses, but then he’d open his eyes and would be alone.  
  
One time, it was Maureen he saw all in green. She put her hands on her hips and told him, “I bet you think this is fitting. Wicked little me trying to steal your precious sparkly jeans.” She cackled and Roger woke in the backseat of his car, certain he was going absolutely mad.  
  
Every time his mind wandered, it somehow came back to Mimi. Her eyes, her smile, and her long, silky hair. He worried about her, wondered if she was still using, still visiting The Man.  
  
It always made him think of the time Maureen had caught him in the middle of a deal. She had actually screamed and forbidden The Man from selling any more heroin to Roger.  
  
At the time, Roger had been so pissed at her, he’d locked himself in his room with April’s razor, but now, he was grateful for her outburst even if it hadn’t exactly worked. He’d been deprived of a door after that incident, since Collins had broken in and thrown away anything in the loft that was even remotely sharp.  
  
He dreamed, one night, that it was Mark, Collins and Benny bursting into his room to save him. Then he doused Maureen with water to keep her away, because he was still mad at her. Except when the water splashed her, the curly brown hair turned to red waves and the green tinge to Maureen’s skin disappeared; the hazel eyes lightened to a grey-green and it was April he was watching melt into liquid nothingness.  
  
Roger woke, shivering and sweating. He’d killed her. He’d let her kill herself. He’d let her die.  
  
Roger curled into the cushion of his car and cried.  
  
He thought of how Benny found the courage to leave the life he didn’t want. He thought of Angel and how Collins had found his heart. He thought of Mark and how he’d discovered his talent and his brains for seeing people, even when no one else could. Then he thought of Mimi’s sweetness and knew he couldn’t stay in Santa Fe.  
  
The next morning, he spent the last of his money on gas and drove home.  
  
When he finally reached the loft, he found no sign of Mimi or Mark and was about to head over to Maureen and Joanne’s, but saw the well-loved camera resting on the couch, and knew it meant its owner couldn’t be far. He climbed the stairs to the roof and found Mark looking out into the street.  
  
When Mark turned and saw him, the look in his eyes made Roger’s chest tighten; he’d needed this for so long. Leaving his troubles behind never worked when he didn’t have the people he loved with him.  
  
Mark went to him and threw his arms around Roger. Closing his eyes, Roger breathed in his clean, soapy smell. “I think I missed you most of all,” he whispered into straw-colored hair.  
  
“Is that your way of saying there’s no place like home?”  
  
“Something like that,” Roger huffed a quick laugh, shaking from all the emotion flooding through him.  
  
Concerned, Mark asked, “You ok?”  
  
Roger nodded, knowing tears were soaking into Mark’s coat.  
  
Mark squeezed harder. “Can I do anything?”  
  
“Just don’t let go.”  
  
He felt Mark smile against his neck and confirm, “I wasn’t planning on it.”  
  
Roger grinned. “Good.”


End file.
